


Restless: A Constantine/ Good Omens Crossover

by IReadAndWriteTooMuch



Category: Constantine (TV), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Constantine being Constantine, Crossover, Crowley Being Crowley, Flirting Constantine, M/M, Multi, My First Fanfic, Smoking, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), flirting Crowley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2020-11-15 08:37:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20863361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IReadAndWriteTooMuch/pseuds/IReadAndWriteTooMuch
Summary: Constantine recieves a message from a familiar face. He leaves for London to deal with an angel gone rogue. Is he ready for what he will discover? Or rather, who?On the other hand, Crowley and Aziraphale are enjoying the prevention of the apocalypse, and they have finally acknowledged their true feelings for each oher. Are they prepared for the storm that's coming? Or rather, the warlock?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, so please be nice. I love writing, but don't get to do it as much as I'd like to. I'm also not used to this kind of writing. I usually write original stories(which I never seem to be able to finish) and poems.  
My studies keep me on my toes constantly, and I do English and History tutoring work with younger students, so I'm always busy.  
That being said, I'll try to update regularly.  
Please enjoy my story, and hopefully there are many more to come!

John was, basically, hanging in the sofa, nursing his fifth cup of tea this evening. In his pants, obviously. Chas had left while he’d been sleeping, and he had taken all the strong liquor with him, damn him.

John knew his friend was just trying to look out for him, but at the moment he would really appreciate some of the good stuff to drown out his sorrows and the silence that currently reigned over the millhouse. He had taken a break from his so-called adventures with the Legends too. He needed some time alone.

Tea would have to do for now. John was restless. He had nothing to do, which made him even more restless. A bit of peace and quiet in his life? That’s not normal or comforting at all.

Suddenly John was startled by the unexpected sound of giant wings flapping, along their owner, who appeared right in front of him.

'Oi!', john exclaims when he spills hot tea over his bare leg. 'Give us a warnin’ before you pop in here, will ya?'. 'I have neither the time nor the patience to give you a soft treatment John', the angel replied. 'Well, you get what you give then', john said with clear frustration in his voice as he wipes of the hot water.

'Finally, you’re starting to get it', Manny commented. 'I thought angels didn’t speak sarcasm?' 'Just put on some clothes', was the reply, so clearly filled with annoyance. John fired back the same amount of annoyance with a shrug. 'T’is me house. I’ll do what I bloody well please.'

'This isn’t really your house though, is it?', Manny remarked. John shrugged again. 'Well, Jasper can’t really object to me anymore, can he?'

'Oh he can. And he is', the angel corrected him. The warlock gave a look that seemed slightly shocked for a fleeting second, but then immediately shifted back to the annoyed and uninterested look from before.

'So, what are you here for exactly?' John wanted to get this over with. There was no use in bickering with the angel forever.

'I’m afraid we have a situation in London. Soho, to be exact', Manny replied.  
'Are you seriously sending me to the UK? What, the states don’t have enough problems, so I gotta expand me range?', the still trouser-less warlock questioned suspiciously.

'Oh, America has more than enough trouble, but this matter is a bit more urgent' 'So what happened? Did a leprechaun cross the Irish border?', John joked.

'I wish it were that insignificant of a problem. No, we have an angel there who went rogue; it’s a big problem. Heaven’s attempt to bring him to justice has failed', the golden-eyed angel explained.

' "Bring to justice"? What’s that supposed to mean then? What did he do to piss ya off so badly?', Constantine asked sceptically.

_Art: <https://www.pinterest.com/pin/567735096771602426/?lp=true>_


	2. Getting ready

_ 'We have an angel there who went rogue; it’s a big problem. Heaven’s attempt to bring him to justice has failed', the golden-eyed angel explained.  _

_ ' "Bring to justice"? What’s that supposed to mean then? What did he do to piss ya off so badly?', Constantine asked sceptically. _

'Let’s just say he ignored direct orders from heaven, and prevented a critical ethereal event from occuring', Manny explained, vague as ever.

'That’s as much clarity as I’m gonna get from you, innit?', John sighed. 

'Well as long as ya remember that I hate flying, and you’re pullin’ me strings here'. Another deep sigh. 'Well, I guess I better go pack me things'.

'You mean a few copies of the exact same clothes you always wear?', 

The angel remarked.

'What? As the americans say, "If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it", 'John replied.

He got up and headed for his room, ignoring the angel that was still eyeing him with slight disapproval. He also felt something else, something he always thought himself above feeling. He felt guilty. Only slightly, but he did feel it. 

For betraying a brother. Manny was just doing his job, but still.

He had always looked up to Aziraphale back in the old days. The perfect big brother. Not in a bad way though. Not in a sarcastic undertone. Manny had really liked his brother. But then he started consorting with humans. 

Not that Manny himself hadn’t had any interaction with humans. Quite the contrary, he just had interaction with Constantine a few minutes ago, who was very much human. Flawed, broken, imperfect. 

But Aziraphale had gone further. He had fallen in love with humanity, and all they had to offer. That’s what had separated Manny from Aziraphale. Not that they had spoken to each other much prior, but when they had spoken, it had been overall pleasant conversations. Elegant. Intelligent. Just like angels were supposed to be.

And then Aziraphale commited a sin. He befriended a demon. Not that Manny had known this at the time, but finding out had hurt the sense of pride he had for his presumably superior race. 

John walked back into the room, now wearing trousers and his signature trenchcoat. Manny only noticed him when the warlock spoke up: 'Well, I better get to it. Is it too much to hope you’ve booked me a private jet?'

'It is', Manny replied. John sighed. 'Of course. I’ll figure something out. I always do'. He walked out the door, ignoring the angel still standing in the living room. 

For a fleeting second Manny felt that unpleasant feeling again. Guilt. For not telling Constantine about the demon. The feeling disappeared as soon as it had come. 'He’ll manage', the angel told himself. 


	3. domestic bliss in the bookshop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait.  
I've had a lot of work recently, and I've experienced a bit of a shock lately.  
My grandmother was diagnosed with cancer a few weeks back, so naturally I haven't really been able to set my mind to writing as much.  
And so I want to dedicate this story to my grandmother, with the hope that her treatment will catch on so that she can be cured.
> 
> Thank you for your patience and your understanding.

Crowley was bored. Don’t get him wrong, he loved being in the bookshop. More precisely, he loved being with Aziraphale. But his angel was busy, too focussed on repairing an old book too pay any attention to him. 

The demon got up from the sofa and sauntered over to Aziraphale, startling the latter when he ran a hand through the angel’s white-blond hair. After a second however, the angel contently leaned into the touch.

‘Are you ever going to finish playing with that book and start playing with me?’, Crowley purred into Aziraphale’s ear. ‘Not just any book dear. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. You know I love these’, the angel replied.

‘That might be true, but either way, I’m more interesting. Besides, if you’re really that into Sherlock Holmes we can watch _ Sherlock _ together with a hot cocoa tonight. You know,’, Crowley said, sliding more closely to Aziraphale, lips oh so close to the angel’s ear ‘cuddled up. Together’.

‘As tempting as that sounds, my love, I do still have a lot of work to do’, Aziraphale replied, eyes half-closed, as he melts into the demon’s touch. He is startled when Crowley suddenly pulls away and drops himself into one of the bookshop’s many comfortable couches with a heavy sigh. 

‘I’m just saying, it’s not fair’, Crowley starts. Aziraphale looks at his partner with a knowing smirk and a slightly raised brow. Crowley is moping. It’s cute most of the time, but it can get slightly annoying if he keeps going for too long. And doesn’t Aziraphale know just how long Crowley could keep going...

‘What?’, Crowley retorts, ‘it _ isn’t _fair. We saved the world, didn’t we? Avoided Armageddon. Check’. 

‘We did have some help, dear’, Aziraphale reminded him. 

‘Yes, yes. But you can’t deny that without the two of us it couldn’t have been done, right? And yet, we don’t get recognition, we don’t get a “thank you”. On the contrary, both heaven and hell want us dead. It’s not exactly motivating now, is it?’, the demon posed. 

‘I know love, but still, we have to-’. Aziraphale stopped mid-sentence, and just seemed to stare at nothing, right past Crowley, who felt a hint of concern and protectiveness rise up over his partner.

‘Aziraphale? What’s wrong?’ He waved his hand in front of the angel, who was still staring uninterruptedly. ‘Darling, talk to me. What is it?’, Crowley insisted. 

‘Can’t you feel it?’, the angel finally reacted. ‘Feel what?’ ‘A presence. A powerful one’. ‘Adam? I thought he was going to stay in Tadfield?’, Crowley asked. ‘Not Adam’, Aziraphale answered, ‘and not an angel. Or a demon for that matter’. ‘So then what the bloody hell is it?’ ‘I don’t know, but it can’t possibly be good’.


	4. the arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry for the long wait and for the short chapter, but I've been very busy with exams and projects. Honestly, the Belgian school system is just weird and it's doing a pretty good job of keeping me occupied and on my toes. Anyway, enjoy this chapter!

John stalked through Heathrow Airport, dragging his luggage along, still experiencing some nausea from being on the plane. He hates flying. 

As soon as John set foot outside of the airport he reached for his pocket, only to retrieve a silk cut cigarette. ‘Bloody non-smoking policy’, he growled while lighting the cigarette and taking a long-anticipated drag, stopping a cab after he finished indulging in his unhealthy habit. 

‘Afternoon sir,’ the cabbie greeted him, ‘where can I take you?’ John tells him the address of the hotel. And yes, for once, he did actually go through the trouble of booking a hotel. He’d rather pay for a room than crash at an acquaintance's place. Friends are good, owing favours isn’t. 

‘Soho? THat’s lovely. You here on business?’, the driver asks in an attempt to make small talk. However, John isn’t up for it at the moment. ‘You could call it that, I suppose’, he simply replies in a low voice, giving an indication of his exhaustion and unwillingness to chat. 

The driver gets the hint and nods. ‘Well, welcome to London’ 

‘Can’t wait to leave again’, John mumbles, only just quietly enough for the cabbie not to be able to pick it up, and he closes his tired eyes in a futile attempt to get some sleep. 


	5. the initial train of thought

_ ‘Can’t you feel it?’, the angel finally reacted. ‘Feel what?’ ‘A presence. A powerful one’. _

‘You feel a “powerful presence”?’, Crowley asked suspiciously. ‘What the heaven is that supposed to mean?’ ‘I don’t know, but after what happened last time I felt something like this, it didn’t exactly turn out quite that well’, Aziraphale replied, worry written all over his face. 

Crowley’s frown deepened. ‘You don’t suppose there’s _ another _ antichrist running around somewhere that we don’t know about, do you?’ ‘No, no, it isn’t like that’, Aziraphale explained. ‘Whoever, or whatever, it is feels...lost, and yet driven. At the same time. Looking for a purpose, but already on the path of another one’. 

‘Way to be confusing’, the demon commented, reassuming his usual sassy and dismissing posture. 

If Aziraphale hadn’t attached so much value to good manners, he probably would’ve rolled his eyes at that. But then again, he would have to that every time he felt the impulse to do so, as a response to every snarky or witty remark of Crowley’s, which would, sooner or later, surely result in Aziraphale’s eyes rolling right out of their sockets. So he kept his composure. 

Nevertheless, his partner did have a point. It _ was _ quite strange. Where did it come from?

And just like that, it disappeared. 

Crowley noticed the sudden change in the angel’s demeanor. ‘What is it?’, he asked. When Aziraphale didn’t react, he got up to stand in front of the angel and gently, in the way he wouldn’t act around anyone else, take Aziraphale’s hand in his own. ‘Angel? Are you alright?’, he asked with a clear undertone of concern. 

Slowly but surely the angel looked up to him. ‘It’s gone’,he simply proclaimed. ‘Why? And more importantly, where did it go?’, Crowley questioned, right back to being confused.

‘I haven’t the foggiest, but I have the slightest suspicion it won’t take us long to find out’, Aziraphale taunted.


	6. Nighttime in Soho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry christmas!   
I hope you all enjoy the new chapter.  
Thank you so much for your support.  
It's really nice to have for a beginning writer.

Shortly after settling in to the hotel, John found himself sauntering down the streets of Soho. He’d tried to stay in the hotel, to lay low, but he had nothing to do for the moment, and he’d be getting a bit of cabin fever. 

So he’d decided to hit the streets, wondering what had changed since the last time he was here. He looked around slightly, collar up, hands in his coat pockets and a lit cigarette between his lips, and found everything to be pretty much the same. 

No surprise there. This  _ is  _ Soho after all. The obnoxious neon lights of a pub’s sign in the corner of his eye got his attention. He shrugged after thinking it over for a second and headed towards the pub, encouraged by the promise of some alcohol to drown his sorrow in. ‘Why not?’, the warlock said to himself. ‘Was gettin’ a bit chilly out here anyway’. 

After putting out his cigarette he pushed the door open and, simply out of habit, headed straight for the bar. 

The bartender looked up. ‘Evenin’. What can I get ya?’, the man asked him in a slightly Irish accent, and John ordered a scotch. The bartender nodded and turned on his heels to grab a glass. John took it as an opportunity to observe the pub for a second. 

It was pretty quiet for a friday night. Two blokes were playing some pool, two others were trying to chat up some birds. Spread throughout the pub were our or five loners, drinking in silence and minding their own business. 

But one of them  _ did _ catch his eye: a tall and skinny-looking man with wild ginger locks and...sunglasses? John wasn’t entirely sure of the latter, seeing as the man was sitting in a dark corner, hidden away from the rest of the pub.

That is, until the man in question turned his head and seemingly looked John right in the eyes, as if he had known someone was watching him. John was “saved” by the bartender, who put his drink on the counter, making John turn back around. ‘Ta mate’, he said, bringing the glass up to his lips. 

While taking a good, long sip, the warlock noticed a movement in the corner of his eye, triggering a wide variety of thoughts. 

He put the scotch down and turned slightly to his right. And once again, his infamous Constantine-instinct hadn’t failed him. It was indeed the redhead. And damn John if this man wasn’t a sight for sore eyes. 

‘Couldn’t help but notice you...noticing me’, the man spoke up, voice smoother than John had expected. A bit of a cheesy line, but this bloke could get away with it. “So this bloke  _ is _ down to flirt”, John thought, suppressing a cheeky grin. How could he resist?

‘Quite hard not to notice you, love’, John replied. Ah what the hell, he was feeling flurtatious. And who knows, maybe he’d get lucky tonight. 

The man grinned. This might just turn into an interesting night after all. For both of them.


	7. A lonely night turned interesting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the long wait, but school has been keeping me very busy lately.  
Fun fact: no one has ever enjoyed reading or writing an academic paper.  
Anyway, thanks for the support and the patience. I love you guys!

Crowley needed some space. He often did. He liked being with Aziraphale, loved it, but every now and then he needed a break. 

He hadn’t taken the Bentley that morning, so now, again, he was walking. But he didn’t mind. 

He felt a little guilty at the thought of going to a pub to drown out his sorrows. He loved Aziraphale, but leaving him alone just to go have a drink in some godforsaken hole? 

If it was a drink he wanted, he could’ve gotten it at the bookshop. No, that wasn’t it.

Perhaps he didn’t need a break from everything, but a break from Aziraphale. He didn’t mean it badly, but the angel could occasionally be a little... too much. As could Crowley himself, which he was fully aware off. Both of them needed some space every once in a while. And this was one of those moments for Crowley. He sighed deeply and gave in to the allure of the pub across the street.

Not even five minutes later was he sitting in a dark booth nursing a glass of red wine. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t even notice the roguishly handsome blond walking into the pub and up to the bar, until he got the faintest feeling someone was eyeing him. 

When he turned his towards the bar, his suspicion was confirmed. An, ironically, devilishly handsome blond man in a trench coat, red tie loosely hanging around his neck, was looking at him from across the pub, but turned around almost instantly when Crowley noticed him. 

Although that probably wasn’t the reason Or the main reason, anyway. He didn’t look like the type to get quickly shy or embarrassed over something like this. 

No, the bartender had put a glass in front of the man, who thanked the Irishman, combed his fingers through his hair, and moved the glass up to his slightly chapped lips. 

“Oh what the heaven, why not?”, Crowley though, and got up from his seat, wineglass in his hand. He walked over to the bar. Who knows, he might get lucky. Don’t get him wrong, he loves Aziraphale, but it’s not as if they’re exclusive to each other. Crowley would go mental. It was a recent extension of their arrangement, if you will. 

‘Couldn’t help but notice you...noticing me’, Crowley purred after sitting down next to the blond, who put his drink down and turned slightly to look at him.

‘Quite hard not to notice you, love’, the man replied, clearly trying to suppress a cheeky grin. And failing. Crowley grinned as well, but he, on the other hand, didn’t try to suppress it at all. My, my, this one really is quite a looker, isn’t he? He had that roguish charm, which, Crowley had to admit, was a really attractive asset to this man. 

‘So…’, the blond started, making Crowley look up and directly into the man’s eyes. ‘What exactly did you have in mind for tonight, squire?’, the man asked, not breaking eye contact. Or at least attempting to. He couldn’t look past those damned sunglasses. 

‘Oh, I don’t know. A bit of fun’, Crowley answered, wordlessly daring the other man to continue this little endeavor. 

‘I’ll drink to that’, the blonde replied, gesturing with his glass. Crowley leaned back to grab his own glass and return the gesture. After taking a sip, they put their glasses down. 

‘It’s John, by the way’, Constantine finally introduced himself. ‘What is?’, Crowley asked playfully, full well knowing what he was getting himself into. John leaned towards Crowley, a hint of mischief sparkling in his dark brown eyes, until the demon can feel the warlock’s stubble against his cheek and whispers: ‘the name you’re going to be screaming later’. 

Now Crowley isn’t normally the type to be screaming, rather than make others scream, but he had to admit that this particular suggestion sent a shiver down his spine. Apparently John noticed, because he gave a small chuckle and a grin in return. 

‘Anthony’, the redhead returned, hoping to regain his posture. Slightly in vain, since the smug grin didn’t leave John’s face.

An interesting night indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S.: Who else is excited for the new season of Legends of tomorrow? The promo for 5x02 makes it seem like Johnny boy is gonna get some action in the next episode ;)  
It's been half a season, so it's time I guess.  
Anyway, I love him.  
That was all, thank you.


	8. An unanticipated meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thank you all so much for your patience. I've been terribly busy with schoolwork, including this year's thesis. Needless to say, I've been dealing with severe procrastination. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Not much was said once they had left the pub, heading for Crowley’s flat. The pair seemed to be driven by something...desperate. Carnal, even. An urgent need to feel something. Anything. Too much of an urgency to say something.

Besides, words aren’t exactly needed here. They know exactly what they’re in for. The tension grows even more as the pair climbs the stairs leading up to Crowley’s apartment. It’s strange for John. 

You’d think he’s used to this sort of thing by now, but with this man, at this moment, it felt different. Special? John’s not sure. But definitely intriguing. There’s something special about this Anthony, with his wild ginger locks and those damned sunglasses he refuses to take off. 

Both men can feel a growing excitement as they reach the apartment’s door and start playfully pushing each other. They’re so caught up in the moment that when they open the door and stumble through it, neither of them notice the open window. The window that had previously been opened by the other man who’s already sat in the apartment, anxiously awaiting his lover. 

The man, however, jumps up at the noise at the front door and walks rapidly through the row of Crowley’s beautiful plants towards the noise. He’s startled when he sees the demon fumble with clothing. Another man’s clothing. 

It nearly breaks the angel’s heart, but deep down he knows Crowley is just trying to distract himself from their fight earlier. Nevertheless, Aziraphale can’t watch this any longer. He coughs in his fist, making John an Crowley look up. ‘You should’ve told me there’s to be a third party involved mate, ‘cus I don’t know if I’m up for that tonight if I’m bein’ honest’, John remarks, slightly thrown off his game. 

‘Well I’m sorry to disappoint, but I don’t share him’, Crowley states, which makes a little spark of pride and glee come to life inside Aziraphale, even though he’s still hurt.

The three men stand there for a moment, an awkward tension clear in the air. ‘I’ll...I’ll go’, Aziraphale says after what seemed like an eternity and starts to make his make his way to the front door, but stops when he feels a hand gently grip his wrist. ‘Angel, please. It’s not-’ ‘No Crowley, I-’ 

‘Hold on. Crowley?’, John interrupts, already mentally preparing for conflict. ‘As in the demon Crowley?’


	9. Revelations

‘Hold on. Crowley?’, John interrupts, already mentally preparing for conflict. ‘As in the demon Crowley?’

The abrupt change in demeanor can be felt clear as day as the three “men” simply stare each other for a moment, trying to prepare for a potential escalation in the situation. 

Eventually, in an attempt to break the tension a little, Aziraphale reaches out to take Crowley’s hand. Unfortunately the sudden movement alarms John and causes him to reach out as well but when the warlock touches the angel, the latter feels a shock go through his body like lightning and he nearly falls to the ground and if it hadn’t been for Crowley, he would have.

‘You…’, Aziraphale stutters, trying to stand upright again. Crowley stops him and brings him over to the bed to sit. ‘Zira? What is it?’, the demon asks concerned, the possible threat promptly forgotten. 

‘He’s… I… I felt him. That’s him’. 

‘This one? Are you serious?’, Crowley asks incredulously.

‘Oy! Will somebody fill me in or are ya gonna let me wallow in ignorance?’, John asked, a mix of confusion and annoyance on his face. The demon looked up, reflecting the annoyance on the warlock’s face with his own, but before he can comment Aziraphale looks up and replies: ‘I felt a powerful presence earlier today. I felt it again when I touched you and it merely startled me. But I am certain the power comes from a good place, so no need to be hostile, dear’. With that last remark he turns back to the demon, who seems to calm a bit.

‘I wouldn’t exactly call myself good. Anyone who comes close to me gets hurt or worse. I’m a nasty piece of work. Best not get too comfortable, yeah?’, John replies, a familiar pain rearing its ugly head and entangling itself in the blond’s words, barely noticeable. 

But the angel noticed. And he suddenly feels a need to comfort this lonely and deeply hurt man. But when he subconsciously reaches out, John comes back to his senses and is immediately on high alert as he recoils slightly.

‘What do you mean you could feel me? I can tell you mate, my presence is very well warded against all kinds of nasty buggers, and I can tell ya I don’t like to be at a disadvantage’, he says while eyeing the duo.

Before Crowley can say something to make the situation worse, Aziraphale pipes up: ‘Why don’t we all start simple. As you know this is Crowley and as you guessed, he is indeed a demon, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone’. This makes Crowley wrinkle his nose slightly in disagreement. 

‘I am Aziraphale, an angel. And you are?’, he continues. 

The gesture calms John down a bit. ‘John Constantine’, he answers, ‘exorcist, demonologist and… occasional dabbler in the dark arts’. 

That statement makes it Crowley’s turn to look up along with the angel who is now fully standing up, still holding the demon’s hand. ‘Oh, I’ve heard of you’. He takes off his sunglasses and when John doesn’t even flinch, Aziraphale’s face becomes a canvas of confusion. 

‘Who are you? And more importantly, why are you here?’, the angel asks.


End file.
